Amateur Ornithology
by EilidhMc
Summary: "Little bird, little bird. Tell me, what kind of bird am I? I must be a useless, stupid bird. A dodo bird, or a fat, clumsy penguin from the shivering sea. Some bird that doesn't know how to fly, otherwise I would be gone from here by now."


The evenly spaced torches did little to dispel the gloom of the corridor. In fact, the brightness of each sconce only served to make the spaces between blacker by contrast. She walked slowly, watching the way her shadow loomed and shortened as she passed each light, brushing one wall with her fingertips as she went. Normally an excess of wine gave her thoughts a pleasant rosy glow, through which she could pretend she was not a hostage of the king, or if she was, that she didn't mind it so. Not so tonight, her wine-haze seemed to be of a darker color, grey, or black. She could see her life stretching out before her. How many times might she have to spout the tired old lies? Stroke Joffrey's ego, insult the memory of her mother, father, Robb, calling them traitor. A miserable existence, notable only for its utter lack of happiness, friendship, and love.

The stone wall under her hand was pleasantly cool, so she pressed her flushed cheek against it and closed her eyes. She should go to her chambers, but for the moment could not muster the energy to move her feet. With her eyes closed the floor seemed to rock slightly under her feet, and she wondered idly if it was like being on a ship at sea. Enjoying the gentle motion, imagining she was on the deck of a ship, the open sea stretched out before her in all directions, she didn't hear the footsteps that approached, and then stopped behind her.

"The little bird is sleeping standing up. How appropriate."

Where usually she took his pet name for her as a sort of term of endearment, really the only thing resembling affection she got anymore, tonight it only served to remind her of her entrapment. A flood of emotion came boiling up out of nowhere and she turned around and sneered bitterly at him. "Little bird, little bird. Tell me, what kind of bird am I? I must be a useless, stupid bird. A dodo bird, or a fat, clumsy penguin from the shivering sea. Some bird that doesn't know how to fly, otherwise I would be gone from here by now."

He looked her over then, slowly, from the hem of her gown up and over the swell and valley of hip and waist and bust, up to her face and her hair and finally her eyes. Her skin seemed to prickle and flush under the weight of his gaze, and the rhythm of her breathing deserted her. She wanted to look away, turn and scurry towards her chambers, but her feet were still not responding and she was rooted to the spot, her eyes anchored to his. He came another step closer and took her wrist in his hand. He turned it palm-up, smoothed open her fist, and gently examined her hand and forearm. Pressing firmly enough to feel the fine bones of wrist and fingers beneath her skin, the heat and size of his hands as soothing as a hot bath.

"I don't know what you are. Mayhaps a kestrel. You're no ground bird, though, you just don't have your flight feathers yet. You'll get them." Despite the absurdity of the conversation, the quiet surety with which he said this was oddly comforting. Standing as near as he was she could feel the heat of his body, and compared to her one arm the rest of her body felt chilled, wanting. The floor seemed to sway again, such that she took one involuntary step and then she was resting against his warm chest, listening to the slow, steady thudding of his heart.

He stilled, for a moment, then his arms came around her, and she rode the rise and fall of his ribcage as he heaved a great breath. One of his hands combed into her hair from the nape upwards, and the scrape of his fingers on her scalp made her shiver. His other hand slid down her back, noting every knob of her spine on the way, and then back up, pressing firmly into the muscle on either side, the force of it molding her tightly against him. The hands came to rest, and just held her close. He put his face to the crown of her head and breathed, she could feel his warm exhale seeping down into her hair like water. A trembling seemed to pass through him, and she could feel his breath on her hair become ragged, and then he pushed her away to arm's length.

"Past time for little birds to be in their nest." he said roughly. "Come, I'll see you there."


End file.
